


Adrift in Your Gravity

by uena



Series: The Road to Hell (is Paved With Good Intentions) [3]
Category: The Tomorrow People (2013)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 04:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uena/pseuds/uena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of being drugged up on pain-killers leaves John feeling raw and helpless. Jedikiah finds just the right words to reassure him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adrift in Your Gravity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hope_calaris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope_calaris/gifts).



John feels painfully sober. The pain-killers’ effect on him has let up, and the pain he got them for is nothing more than a dull memory at the centre of his spine.

He wishes he could say the same for the rest of his memories: that they were dull.

Instead they are vibrant. He remembers everything, every little detail – Jedikiah’s warmth, the strength in his hands, the sound of his voice when he said his name.

John also remembers the way his body reacted to Jedikiah. And that Jedikiah knows. He saw. He _felt_ him react. He told John to come visit him once he was sober.

John does not normally disobey Jedikiah’s orders – ever – but this time he had to delay its execution. He has taken a shower. He has paid the doctors a visit and given them more of his blood to experiment with. He has dressed himself with more care than usual.

Not that it would signify. He doesn’t own anything else than jeans and t-shirts, and the drugs, although they do not cause him any pain anymore, still have him feeling warmer than he’s used to. Even the t-shirt feels like it’s too much.

He would like to take it off. But given that he’s standing in front of Jedikiah’s office, that might be a bad idea. His palms are sweaty.

“Do you plan to come in at some point, or are you just admiring the door frame?”

John can hear the smile in Jedikiah’s voice through the door, and it’s what makes him get a grip and enter the room.

Jedikiah is sitting behind his desk, but he gets up once John opens the door, steps around it and gesticulates for John to sit on the couch to the left of it. “I trust you’re feeling better today?”

For a few seconds, John’s throat is closing up, and he can’t breathe, much less give an answer. He closes the door behind him, walks over to the couch and sits down. His palms are still sweaty. He rubs them across his thighs. It doesn’t help.

He swallows. “Much better, yes. Thank you.”

He doesn’t really want to, but when Jedikiah moves to stand in front of him, he has to look up and meet his eyes.

For a few seconds, Jedikiah’s gaze is cool, assessing and searching, then it turns soft. “John. I told you not to worry, didn’t I?”

John has to clear his throat before he can talk. “You told me it … wouldn’t change anything.”

“And it doesn’t.” Jedikiah crouches down, has to look up at John for a change. “The medication I gave you was very strong, and you weren’t used to it. Your reaction was nothing you could have controlled. Okay?”

John stares at a point somewhere to the left of Jedikiah’s right shoe and nods.

“Okay,” Jedikiah repeats and stands up. “Do you still feel any pain?”

John’s eyes snap back to Jedikiah’s. “N-no.”

Jedikiah smiles. “You aren’t sure?”

John wishes he would touch him again – put his hand on his forehead, stroke through his hair, anything. “It’s … it feels … I still feel a bit off.”

The tiny crease John noticed yesterday returns to Jedikiah’s forehead. “But it’s not the pain-killers.”

John shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

For a moment neither of them says anything. John doesn’t dare move.

Then Jedikiah sits down next to him on the couch. “John.”

John keeps his eyes locked onto the dust bunny he has found floating around in the left opposite corner of the office.

“John, please. Look at me.”

So he does.

Jedikiah looks … unsure, as if he doesn’t quite know what to do, what to make of this.

John hates that he did this – that he’s the reason Jedikiah doubts … anything. Him. Their relationship. Maybe even the project. Maybe he thinks John isn’t strong enough. That he can’t take it. Isn’t good enough.

“I’m sorry,” he manages, and squeezes his eyes shut as he hears his voice break over the second word.

“John,” Jedikiah says, his voice almost _tender_ , and then he puts his arm around John’s shoulders, pulls him close. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Try as he might, John can’t suppress the shudder that runs through his body, can’t stop the sob from breaking out of his throat. His body twist around by itself, turns towards Jedikiah and into his embrace, and John presses his face into Jedikiah’s shoulder.

He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t.

“John,” Jedikiah soothes, his voice even softer than before, “it’s ok. Everything’s ok.” He pulls John closer and into something you could call an embrace. John can’t remember if he’s ever been this close to anyone. The sensation is overwhelming.

His throat locks up again, and he tries to breathe against the sudden need to hold on to Jedikiah, to get as close as possible. Instead he clings to him with all his strength.

“Please calm down.” Fingers stroking through his hair, stroking his neck, dipping below the neckline of his t-shirt.

John suppresses a moan, stills, and holds his breath.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Jedikiah’s hand on his neck grabs him a little tighter – then the gentle stroking resumes. “Don’t be.” Jedikiah’s other hand glides over John’s rigid back, warm, mesmerizing. “I’m not.”

John exhales slowly. “But I’m -”

“You are eighteen years old,” Jedikiah interrupts him gently. “Maybe I’m putting too much on you.”

John grabs the front of Jedikiah’s shirt. “Killian is -”

“Not you. Don’t compare yourself to him.”

“But I want to continue the program!”

Jedikiah takes his hand off John’s back, but does not release his hold on John’s neck. His thumb brushes through John’s hair when he makes him sit up a little straighter, looks him in the eye. “You’re sure about that?”

John isn’t sure. He never was. But in all the years he’s known Jedikiah, he’s never received this much uncontested attention – so much physical contact.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Jedikiah smiles at him.


End file.
